LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

ai). ToDyriglii M). 



Chap. TTopynglu N 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



At The Twilight Hour 



OTHER POEMS 



HATTIE LEONARD WRIGHT 



FO 
THE M 



9681 



,i1 0-- C0«6i 



. , '^ JAN 10 1898 



TWO writs weceWW 



^Xjer of Cc9f: 



?^JS^ 



52f>4 



COPYRIGHT BY 

HATTIE LEONARD WRIGHT 

1897 



CONTENTS 



At the Twilight Hour 

I Grow 

Smoke and a Sermon 

My View and His'n 

A Lawyer's Valentine 

June .... 

Parting Song 

To a Darwinian 

Thanksgiving Day 

The Years Glide By 

Arbutus 

In Memory of Helen Ninde King 

To the Memory of our Classmate 
Jennie Armstrong . 



PAGE 

3 
5 
7 
8 

11 
13 
14 
15 
16 
18 
19 
21 

22 



iv CONTENTS. 






page 


To A November Violet 


. 23 


To Isabel 




. 24 


Falling Leaves 




. 25 


From the Past . 




. 26 


"Not Here. But RisExN" 




. 28 


The Old Gray Horse 




. 29 


Evening 




. 30 


Baby .... 




. 32 


A POTATOLESS DINNER 




. 33 


Children's Songs 




. 34 


The ReUxNion 




. 38 



Sometimes I sung because the way seemed dreary, 

Sometimes for joy my harp began to thrill . 
/Sometimes, ivhen Grief stood mute 'neath ^orrovj weary 

A dirge unlocked her lips so still 
And so, through life, my harp and I together 

Have clim,hed the mountain or have crossed the plain. 
It brightened Jor me all the gloomy weather 

Or soothed some fellow wanderer's pain. 
This little book shall voice some faint vibration 

Of all that thrilled my toand^ring harp of yore. 
As some small shell of ocean\s strange creation 

Still sings though wave shall kis'i it nevermore. 



AT THK TWILIGHT HOUR. 

THK last few ra3'S of the fading light 
Look back on the earth in ling'ring goodnioht, 
And the purpling tints of the evening mark 
That peaceful time " 'twixt da5^1ight and dark"— 
My happiest time ; 'tis the twilight hour. 

The soft red glow from the fire-place falls 
In flickering gleams athwart the walls, 
On table and books and old time chairs, 
On quaint old vases marshalled in pairs, 

That show through the dusk of the twilight hour. 

And, side by side in the fireside glow, 
One stately and tall, one little and low, 
Two easy chairs invitingl}^ wait, 
While I softlj^ whisper, "It's getting late" 
In fear we may miss our twilight hour. 

But a well-known step's on the flags outside, 
A moment later and you're at luy side ; 
Then what do we care for the world without, 
For it's praise or blame, for it's faith or doubt? 
The}^ vex us not in the twilight hour. 

3 



AT THE TWILIGHT HOUB, 

Wear}^ and worn from the long da3^'s hard toil, 
Brown with the sun, marked with stains of the soil, 
Somewhat grizzled and gray, somewhat careworn 

and old, 
You are yet more to me than can ever be told 
As we sit side b}^ side in the twilight hour. 

The hand that holds mine in clasp tender and 

warm, 
Though roughened b}^ toil and scarce graceful 

of form, 
Has battled for countr3' in treason's dark hour 
And helped to put down rebellion's vile power, 
And I'm proud of it now in this twilight hour. 

As we silently sit in the deepening gloom 
That gathers and grows in our firelighted room, 
I think of the hardships, the sorrow and care 
That have furrowed your brow and silvered yoiir 
hair; 
I would make j^ou forget in this twilight hour. 

Then I think of the j^ears that are yet to be, 
Bearing bitter and sweet for j^ou and for me. 
And I know the cup will be sweeter if we 
Ma}" share it together, whate'er it may be. 
'Tis of this that I dream in this twilight hour. 

Oh, I pray when, at last, our tasks are all done 
And together we watch life's fast setting sun, 
When the tender Angel of Death shall come 
Our spirits to bear to our Heavenl}^ Home, 
We may rest side bj' side in that twilight hour. 



I GROW, 



I GROW. 



IN a cleft of a rock both dark and deep 
There fell a seed long- ago ; 
One glimmering ray broke its wintry sleep 

And woke it to live and grow. 
Prisoned from day in the darkness of night. 

Not even a leaflet near, 
It pined for the dew and the warmth and light 

And hated the darkness drear. 
Far, far overhead shone a glimpse of blue, 

And up from the depths came clear 
The sound of a spring that had trickled through 

For many, many a year. 
So, because it could not live in the dark, 

Because it must drink or die, 
It reached forth its leaves to the shining mark 

(That was all it could see of sky) ; 
It sent down a thirsty rootlet to drink 

From the fountain flowing below. 
And down in its heart it began to think, 

"I really believe that I grow." 



Years came and went and a graceful young tree 
Had reared there its beautiful crest, 

And every bright leaf as it fluttered free 
In the wind from the warm southwest 



I GEO W. 

Sang the sweet song that the first time was heard 

In cold, cheerless darkness below. 
How happiness thrilled and throbbed in each word 

"I grow, I grow ! Oh, I grow !" 



Boughs were wrenched off by the furious gale 

Or burnt in the lightning's tlame ; 
And leaves fell thick 'neath the fast flying hail, 

The song was evei' the same. 
Heaviest storms spent their fur}' in vain, 

Droughts parched the earth far and near, 
'Mid the thunder's roar came the old refrain 

"I grow, I grow," — sweet and clear. 
And the scars were healed as the years went on, 

Ever}' springtime brought new life. 
And flower and fruit crowned the victory won 

Through 3'ears of storm and strife. 
Still the same old song swelled up to the sky, 

"I grow, I grow ! Oh, I grow I" 
Till ever}^ wind brought the gladsome cr}^, 

"I grow, I grow ! Oh, I grow !" 



And so 7 sing through the dreariest night. 

Throughout the weariest day ; 
The sun's overhead though clouds keep the lij 

From shining across my wQ.y. 
The goal may seem never so far from me. 

The pathway be rough and steep ; 



IGHOW. 

My strength indeed very little may be 

And torrents be wide and deep ; 
Tomorrow the sun may shine bright and clear. 

The torrents have ebbed away ; 
If not I'll be patient, banish all fear 

And wait yet another day. 
And still with a heart full of joy I sing, 

''I grow, I grow ! Oh, I grow !" 
There will come, bye-and-bye, a blossoming 

Of life and soul— this I liHiow. 



SMOKE AND A SERMON. 

7T^WAS sunset, and. looking across the plain 
1 And the forest fresh from the recent rain, 
I was watching the tender light that lay, 
So soft and so bright and so far away, 
On the white cloudships that dreamily 
Sailed the measureless depths of azure sea. 
Toil-smirched and careworn I wished I could be 
Clean as a cloud and as buoyant and free ; 
My life seemed so gloomy— would it were bright— 
But even it's shadow seemed dark'ning to night. 
Near by me an engine that stood on the track 
Sent skyward a column of smoke thick and black. 
Blacker and thicker on upward it rolled 
Till the setting sun turned it's top to gold, 
Then fair as a cloud, just as softly bright. 
It was borne away on the breeze so light. 
So, I thought, with life— if we lift it high 



SMOKE AND A SERMON. 

It's grimy spots turn to gold in the sky, 

If only upon them we catch the ray 

Of the Sun that shines through unending Day. 

So the inky smoke of our battles may rear 

A pillar of cloud in our wilderness here 

That shall be as a pillar of light to show 

Some wa3'faring brother the way to go. 



MY VIEW AND HISN. 

ITKLL ye jest what, them teachers 
Has 'n awful sight fer ter bear, 
An' I couldn't be hired t' be one 

Ef I hadn't a rag t' wear 
Except this old suit uv blue-jeans 
An' not nary cent fer t' spare. 

Fust, they's a passel uv young uns 
Jest full uv the very Old Nick— 

The biggest uns puttin' the littlest 
Up to ev'ry mischeevious trick 

An' a keepin' theirselves out uv trouble 
In a way th't seems purt}- slick. 

Then, they's th' intrusted payrents 

Ferever a meddlin' aroun' 
An' a faultin' th' teacher fer somethin' 

He knows better 'n they, I'll be boun' 
It hain't possible fer ye ter suit 'em 

Anyways ter suit 'em all roun'. 



MY VIEW AND HIS'N. 

This one— lie thinks th't his childern, 

The teacher hain't learned 'em enough, 

Th't he's ben by far too easj^ : 

The next one allows he's too rough : 

An' Jones, he says th't he's partial 
An' he's took his'n out in a huff. 

An' then, just look at his quarters. 

He boards with th' Widder Van Bloom ; 
Two mile 'n a half he must foot it 

'Cause th' neighbors here hed'nt room. 
Takin' summer 'n winter t'gether 

His comfort it hain't on th' boom. 

Fer 'n fall th' roads is so muddy, 

In winter ther drifted with snow, 

An' 'n spring th' mud is repeated, 
B3^ June in the dust he must go. 

Kf it hain't one thing it's another 
T' make him feel mizzerble low. 

Then they's th't dirtj'^ old school-house, 

'Tain't fit fer t' stable a cow : 
Th' ceilin' all frescoed with spit-balls 

Thet's stuck frum th' fust 5^ear tell now, 
Th' winders without anj^^ curtains, — 

A comfortless place, you'll allow. 

They hain't a tree th't stands nigh it 

T' keep off th' blisterin' sun 
Th't strikes straight through them old winder.-* 



10 MY VIEW AND HISN. 

In th' childern's eyes— ev'r}' one 
Scorchin' an' parchin' an' blindin' 
Tell th' long afternoon is done. 

It's jest ez bad in th' winter 

Fer th' glare uv th' dazzlin' snow 

Shines through them unshaded winders 
All day with it's pitiless glow: 

An' cracks in th' weatherboardin' 
Lets in all th' winds th't blow. 

M}' son, he don't see it thet way ; 

He belives th't teachin's a trade 
Much better 'n farmin' or physick 

Or th'n sellin' dress goods 'n braid ; 
Th't next to preachin' comes teachin' 

An' th't teachers is born 'n not made. 

He says th't them little childern 
Is learnin' him some ev'ry day,— 

Somethin' he'd either forgotten 
Or th't never come in his way ; 

Thet his mind's brighter 'n better 
An' th't thet alone would be pay. 

He says th't thet narrer school room 
Is th' big world copied out small, 

Where students uv human nacher 
Can find little samples uv all 

Th' bodies, brains, dispositions, 
Thet crowd this terrestrial balL 



MY VIE W AND HIS'M 11 

He says th't th' work uv teachin' 

Is somethin' noble an' grand ; 
Thet th' unknown hard-worked teacher 

Toda}^ holds fast in his hand 
Sliapin' fer good er fer evil 

Th' destin}^ iiv our Land. 

He saj^s th't it learns him patience 

At th' same time thoroughness 
As he tries t' toiler th' pattern 

Uv One who will surely bless 
Th' work uv th' humblest teacher 

Thet strives in His footsteps t' press. 



A LAWYER'S VALENTLXK. 

AGAIN I rise to greet the da^^ 
That wakens life and feeling, 
That brings the songster's sweetest la}" 

His happiness revealing; 
The foremost courier of the Ma3\ 
Announcing her in gladness, 
The springtime sunshine's earliest ray 
To banish thoughts of sadness. 

Full oft I've known the time return. 

Without one fond emotion 
To wake this heart, so grave and stern, 

To Love's own sweet devotion. 
The fancies fair, that fill the air 



i* THE LAWYER'S VALENTINE. 

Upon this happy season, 
Could not keep house with heav}- care 
And stolid sober reason. 

But now, a vision floats about 

The must and dust of volumes 
And with its presence puts to rout 

My figures in their columns. 
A precedent, I can't forget, 

Is not the one I've cited. 
And gentle ansivers haunt me yet, 

My plea not half indited. 

And now, I've written "Valentine" 

Upon the deed I'm framing- 
Right in the middle of the line ! 

The senior would be blaming 
This member of the firm 

Did he but know the courting 
That takes my mind this term — 

A suit I'm just reporting. 

Dark eyes, that smile above the page, 

With tender timid glances. 
Would melt the heart of any flint, 

Or blind a lawyer's senses ; 
The scarlet lips that tempt my own, 

Their pearl}^ treasures showing. 
The lovely brow, a cloud (dark brown) 

Of hair about it blowing-; 

The echo of a half-breathed "3'es," 
Called "no" the instant after, 



THE LAWYER'S VALENTINE. U 

Because you would not then confess. 
But fled with mocking- laughter ; 

And, after that, the long-, long kiss 
I took, your lips compelling 

To yield me all the tenderness 
Denied me in the telling-. 

I call the vision "Valentine" 

By all the loves of ages — 
I call it and I make it mine. 

Recorded in these pages ; 
And, lest thou doubt my right to do it, 
I'll simply sig-n myself to prove it, 
Forever and forever thine — 
Thine, and thine onl};, 

Valentine. 



JUxNE. 

OH, the happy, happ^^ time 
When in merr}^, merr}^ chime, 
With sweetly sounding voices 
Karth carols and rejoices 
To the merry, merr}^ tune 
Taught her by the joyful June. 

Oh, the jo3'ful, jo3^ful time ! 
To be sad were now a crime. 
Above ga}^ birds are singing. 
Below the flowers are springing. 



u JTSE. 

All to deck the g^olden noon 
Of the aunny days of June. 

Oh. the quiet, quiet time ! 
Stillness of a balmy clime. 
In lang^uid ease reposing 
At daylig^ht's dewy closing. 
Guarded by the tender moon. 
Dream we of the lovely June. 



PARTING SONG. 

MEM'RY'S wand calls up tonight 
The past with all it's shade and light. 
Thoughts are with the days of yore— 
Oh. happy days, they come no more. 
Thinking of the friends they brought. 
Rememb'ring all the changes wrought. 
Sadness fills each heayy heart. 
As now from classmates loved we part. 

Cho. — May our lives lead up always. 

Illumined by the Sun's bright rays. 

Till, surrounded by His light. 

Our class shall never say good night. 

Let us hoi>e the years gone by 

Are but the steps to those on High. 

That together there, as here. 

All those whom we have held so dear — 



PJLRIJyG SOXG. 

Teachers, classmates, one and al], 
Xot one name inissing^ from the call. 
Will have left a raemry fraught 
With earnest deeds and loving thought. 

Xow farewell ! Hope doth us show 
A fiowerv path, but who can know 
When the rose will show its thorn. 
How soon the clouds obscure the mom ': 
One there is. and one alone. 
The future can to us make known. 
Waiting^ hearts, bow down in prayer 
That God will hold us in His care. 



TO A DARWINIAN. 

OUT of the protoplasm 
In Chaos* darkest chasui 
Went forth two molecules 
By evolution's rules. 
These, gathering and uniting. — 
You see I'm Darwin citing — 
With other molecules. 
Became two wondrous fools. 
And they were. I opine. 
You and your valentine. 
Now this has quite assured me 
That I'm the foolish one for Ihee 
And you're the only fool for me. 
So. of two fools, let one fool be. 



THAXKSGIVING DAY 



THANKSGIVIXG DAY. 

TIMK waits to gather in toda3^ 
With all his hoarded treasures. 
The smiles and tears, the hopes and fears. 

The joys, the griefs, the pleasures. 
The prayers, the vows, the prophecies, 
The failures and successes. 

The tares and wheat— true grain or cheat 
Just as they stood, together. 

That side b}^ side, for nian}^ a daj' 
Through fair and darksome weather. 

Have grown and ripened, leaf l)}- leaf. 

To form the year's full rounded sheaf. 
And as the Reaper cuts and binds 

The harv^est for our sowing 
A tricksome fanc}^ round it winds 

A wreath so bright and glowing^ 
Forgetful of the tares and cheat. 
Remembering but the golden wheat. 
We grieve to find the harvest past 
And wish that June could always last. 
But. since for us this iriay not be, 
We look upon our sheaf and see 
The flowers that hide what's poor and nie;in. 
The grain that looks so fair and clean. 
And think that sure no other 3'ear 
Hath ever brought such rare good cheer. 
And so we «:ather round the board 



THAIsKSGlVING DAY. 

With Autumn's bount}' richl}^ stored, 
And quip and jest fly to and fro 

And toasts are drunk and songs are sunt; 
* * * * 

The dancers range themselves in row, 

The fiddle now is quickl}^ strung, 
And to its romping- merr^' tune 

They dance the "Ole Virginn}- Reel," 
The "Fisher's Hornpipe,'' "Old Zip Coon," 

The "double shuffle." (Nimble heel 
That takes to dance it well, you see) 

And "Patting Juba," — all the list 
Of fanc3^ steps, from pigeon wings 

To pigeon-foes. Each one his best 
With all the odd, outlandish flings 

To rouse a rival's jealousy. 
The merry games that children know 

Find older plajers on this day ; 
And matron staid and grandsire graj- 

In "blind man's buff" rush to and fro. 
At last around the chimney wide 
We draw our chairs close, side by side, 
And speak of all those happy da3^s, 
Thanksgiving days, that went their waj'S 
Long years ago ; of friends that met 

Together here, now gone before ; 
Of how toda}^ we miss them, 3^et 

We hope to meet them all once more ; 
Of that glad Daj^ Thanksgiving Da} , 
That dawns upon our earthl}^ wa}- 
To cheer us as we gentl}' go 



iA THANKSGIVING DAY. 

Adovvn the vale to cross the stream 
That ripples on the other shore. 

And, while we talk, the fire burns low 
With strangely fitful flickering gleam ; 

The shadows lengthen on the floor 
Then slowly climb along the wall, 
And thoughtful silence wraps us all. 
And then the grandsire slowly kneels 
And from his place there upward steals. 
At first in accents faint with tears 
And then in triumph o'er all fears, 
A prayer— so full of faith and love 
It seems to lift us all above 
The clouds that often hide the way 
That leads us to Thanksgiving Day. 



'•THE YEARS GLIDE BY." 

THE 3^ears glide by, dear friends. 
The years glide b3^ 
lake ripples on a shoreless sea 
Where all be3^ond is mystery 
And all behind is memor\\ 

The j^ears glide b}-. 
And. as our gallant bark, Today, 
vSails gail}^ on her course awa}-, 
The 3^ears, that never, never stay. 

Glide swiftlj^ by. 
Far, far astern a glittering trace 
Is all that's left to mark the place 



''THE YEABS GLIDE BYr 

Where our Today passed other days 

As the}^ went b} . 
And there the g-limmering- light and shade 
Of joy and mirth, bright hopes betra3-ed. 
Show for a moment ; while they fade 

The years g-lide b}-. 
But, oh, my friends, the years that glide 
So swiftly to the farther side ~ 

Thoug-h they g-lide hy 
To fade at last in shadowed night. 
Come, bright with morning-'s glorious ligiit, 
Rring-ing- us ever new delig-ht. 

As the3^ glide by. 
Yet never mourn their speed}^ flight; 
Because, each tiny moment bright 
Speaks of a Land that knows no nig-lit. 

Though 3^ears g-lide by. 
And surely, thoug-h beyond our sig-ht, 
For us, if we but steer arig-ht, 
"There is a Land of Pure Delight," 
Where the years g-lide b3% dear friends. 

The years g-lide b3^ 



zr> 



ARBUTUS. 

OH, sweet the warmth of sunny skies. 
Where all things dream in deep repose 
And bright the flower that blooms and dies 

Below the belt of frosts aud snows ! 
Kissed by the sun to scarlet hue 



ARBUTUS. 

It ilaiiies in brilliant beaut}^ forth, 
And never feels the winds that strew 

The frailer blossoms of the north. 
Bathed in the copious dew of night, 

It's color deepens and it goes, 
To meet the morning, all bedight 

In deepest tint of velvet rose. 
One calls it perfect in its grace, 

The queen of all that bud and bloom. 
J never loved an empty vase — 

What niore's a flower without perfume : 
Ml/ floweret blooms 'neath colder skies, 

And faint and few are the rays that fall 
Where, all snow wrapped, it hidden lies. 

I prize it, though — yes, more than all. 
The bleak fall winds and the cold fall rains 

The sunless days and the frosts and snows. 
All come and go, while an old year wanes. 

All come and go, while a new j^ear grows. 
And, while the earth still in darkness sleeps, 
From its bed of leaves in 3^ floweret peeps 
And shines in its beaut}- under the snow. 
Just tinged with a blush by the winds that blow. 
The flower hides away 'neath the leaf's dark green 
And buds and blossoms alone, unseen. 
While the spring wind bears on it's wings of air 
A whiff of an odor both rich and rare ; 
Faint it may be, till some passing foot, 
Straj^ed from the path, breaks the tender shoot 
That 3delds its sweetest perfume with life. 
And so, my sweet, from the turmoil and strife, 



ARBUTUS. 21 

From the winds of doubt and the rain of tears, 
From the frosts and snows and the grief of 5^ears. 
You have grown to the perfect, pure, sweet flower 
That will live in my heart till it's latest hour. 
But frosts must come and skies must lower 
And rain must fall, for the perfect flower. 
So, bloom the more brightly 3'ou will, I know, 
For the fairest flowers open under the snow. 
And tend'rest hands brush the flakes awa}- 
To gather Arbutus' delicate spra}-. 



IN MEMORY OF HELEN NINDK KING. 

LOiie of the sweetest and purest souls that ever blessed thi? 
arth with tender ministrations has passed up higher. And we wh( 
re left are desolate in our bereavement of a life that blessed all 
tlun- lives that ever felt its influence.] 

SO little time! 
Oh, God, so short the space 
To whisper tender, loving words. 
To look upon a precious face ! 
So little time ! 
(Oh, God, how swift it flies) 

To feel the toucli of trembling hands 
To meet the glance of earnest e3'es, 

So little time ! 
Oh, God, a moment brief 

To feel the kiss of loving lips 
On lips all dumb with grief ! 



IN MEMO SI AM. 

So little time ! 
Thank God, the time will be 

But brief that we must work alone. 
Then time shall be eternity. 

A little time, 
Thank God, and quickly gone. 

Oh, then, why should we grieve r 
So soon will our tomorrow dawn. 



TO THE MEMORY OF OUR CLASSMATE, 
JENNIE ARMSTRONG. 

WHEN the shades of night are falling, 
When our labor's day is done. 
We can hear loved voices calling 

From the Land be3'ond the sun. 
Ah ! One voice has called but lately, 

One form we almost can see ; 
Tiine has not the vision faded. 

Oh, we often think of thee! 
Friend, most fortunate of all, 

We are left to wait awhile. 
"Bide a w^ee" must we and then 

We ma}- meet thy welcome smile. 
Can Death break the chain of Friendship? 

Can it he that Love has flown r 
No I In heaven reuniting 

We may claim thee as our own. 
Through our tears we read the promise 

Fulfilled there, but given here. 



TO A NOVEMBER VIOLET. 

And through sorrow we are slowlj^ 
Upward led, be\'ond the bier. 

Yes, in heaven shall we see thee ; 

Could we hold this promise ever 

Brighter would the future shine. 

Now the present seems forever. 



TO A NOVEMBER VIOLET. 

OH Flower of Spring, that lingered here to cheer 
The briefer daj-light of a ling'ring fall, 
Speak to my darling of another year — 

Of vines that drape an humble cottage wall. 
Of Vjirds that build beneath its slanting eaves 

And swing upon the rose-branch at the door ; 
Of hope that bourgeons with the budding leaves, 

And Love that waxes more and more. 
Smile in her face, n\\ flower, and see tin-self 

Reflected in the dark depths of her dusk}- e3-es. 
vSmile, for the answer of her bending lips 

Shall stir th}- beauty with a new, a sweet 
surprise. 
Nestle against her cheek, my wee blue flower 

And dream of summer winds and sunnj^ da3^s ; 
Breathe in her ear a murmur of that hour 

When last I saw her lovel}^, flower-like face. 
And tell her, oh, my bonny blossom blue, 
Tell her, oh, tell her, violets are true ; 
Tell her I work and wait for her alone 
And tell her, winter will ere long have flown. 



TO ISABEL. 



TO ISABKL. 

A SUMMER'S leaf, that idly sways and falls, 
Mayhap is gathered up and pressed from 
curious eyes awa5^ 
Though faded, sere and brown, it still recalls 

The happ5^ days, whose hours did blithel}- dance, 
forever bright and ga5^ 
So of these hours, that have so quickl}- passed. 

Renienibrance garners up some brighter one and 
hides it safe away 
With other reliques of the golden Past. 

And, as around the leaf an odor clings 
Redolent of fair daj^s and warin south winds, clover 
and new-mown hay, 
To older j-ears the hour's bright mem'ry brings 
A sweeter fragrance still, that scents the inner closets 
of the heart, 
So. round thy pictured face there cluster thick 
The forms of those who came and went and in the 
summer play took part ; — 
That play, whose happy scenes passed all too quick! 
Then wandering vibrations come to me, 

Echoed from 'long ago," to voice this pla}' of 
phantoms from the past. 
Ah. that the shades might prove realit}' 

And each new summer, in delight a repetition 
of the last ! 
An idle wish — but in the wishing sweet ; 

The plaj^ is plajed -the players parted to their 
distant theaters. 



TO ISABEL -r, 

Perchance ne'er more upon one stage to meet. 

And other pla3'ers shall rehearse our pla}- to other 
listeners ; 
For others shall the days go happiU. 

While other friends shall gather round the board 
v.here we were welcome guests 
And other hands deal hospitalitj^ ; 

Upon the boughs, within whose shade we dreamed, 
there will be other nests ; 
Our blossoms will for fresher flowers give place. 

But, in the time to come, no time will ever be, no 
friends will seem. 
Like b3'-gone times and friends of other days. 
The fair\^ forms that till the fairest dreams 
Can not compare with those revealed when memory's 
taper burns 
And shows a happy glimpse of "long ago." 
Wherein is but one dark inscription found, and that 
("It ne'er returns" , 
Repeated b}' each 3'ear that comes to go 
And. in a chorus sad. re-echoed on the borders of 
Today. 
So, as the present soon will be the past. 
However pleasant, bright and gay, but momentary in 

its sta\'. 
Well wish Tomorrow like Today 
And everv summer like the last. 



FALLING LEAVES. 

OCTOBER ! and a gentle breath 
Comes softly, like the last faint si; 
That parts the lips ere might}' Death 



:"■' FALLING LEAVES. 

Usurps Sleep's throne of in3^ster3\ 
The south wind blows ; how g-entl}- now 

It stirs the dj-ing- leaves that hang- 

Their feverish crimson on that bough 

Where once, 'mid springing green, there 
rang 

The wild sweet notes of happj^ birds 

Whose little throats seemed pouring forth 
The j^ear's new joy, — too deep for words, 

(For words go halting from their birth.) 
The air is filled with leaves that fall 

As pliant tree tops bend before 
The breeze that lightlj^ stirs them all 

And piles the rustling heaps with more. 
The distance glimmers through a haze 

That wraps it with a veiling charm. 
As if to dim the hues that blaze 

From yonder woodland Ijang warm 
Upon the sunnj^ slope that trends 

Full southward, till one scarce maj- saj- 
If some bright cloud that lowlj^ bends 

Be cloud or mountain far awaj-. 



FROM THE PAST. 

ITH the ebb tide and flood of the 3'ears 
To us both man}- changes have come. 
We have marked them in mirth or in tears 
Da}' b}' da 5' as we reckoned their sum. 
You are there and I here, and between — 



W 



FEOM THE FAST. 

Far, far greater than mile-iiieasured space— 
Our lives' opposite paths intervene, 

Paths that we ne'er may hope to retrace. 
As I mnse on the days of my youth 

Oh, how fondly I love to recall, 
In their tenderness honor and truth, 

The dear friends that I loved, one and all. 
Oh, the amber of mem'r}^ will hold 

Still embalmed in its own golden glow 
These fair wraiths of the glad days of old 

While I live to remember and know. 
But I start when some long quiet form 

Is disturbed by a breath frora^oday 
And before me stands living and warm 

When I thought I had laid it away 
So securel}^ no sull3ang stain 

From the grim smoking battle of life 
And no throb of life's sorrow or pain 

E'er could reach it and wake it to strife. 
Oh, my friend ! as you come from my Past 

Thus to enter my Present, I shrink ; 
For too well do I know that, at last. 

There will shatter or strengthen one link 
In the friendships I prized long ag^o. 

But, when stripped of the graces of Then, 
Oh, I wonder shall I surelj^ know 

M}^ old friend when I meet him again 
Full}' grown to the stature of Now ? 

Shall I find stainlevSS honor and truth 
Still enthroned, as of 3^ore, on his brow? 

Tlien thrice welcome, dear friend of m}^ 3^outh, 



''NOT HEBE, BUT BISEN,'' 

As you pass from my vision again 
Stepping- back from the Now to the Tlien 
You will fade to a phantom once more, — 
With the shades from the loved haunts of 3^ore 
Still illumed b}^ the ambient glow 
That aye brightens the dear Long Ago. 



"NOT HERE, BUT RISEN." 

[[n Memory of Minnie Besley Welles, Died March 24. 1892.1 



N 



O, not for her the hue of darkness born ; 
She greets^the light of an Eternal Morn. 
Bring not for her the sable badge of 

death 
Who knows but now the 303^ of 

Heaven's first breath. 
"Not here, but risen," this shall be 
Written for all who come to see. 
Since first beside an open tomb. 
Dispelling all its awful gloom, 
The angel on that glorious day 
Forever rolled the stone away, 
The eye of Faith may ever see 
Not Death but Immortalit3^ 
"Not here, but risen," — let the white 
Of Easter lilies meet the light. 
So fair and sweet they well may be 
The sign of what we can not see — 
Her life's sweet bud of purity 
Unfolding in Eternity. 



TBE OLD GRA Y HOBS'E. -^9 



THK OLD GRAY HORSE. 

A SORRY old nag was the old gray horse. 
With his roughened coat and shaggj- mane 
And his undipped locks 'bove his well-worn shoes 

And his knotted tail fringed with frozen rain. 
And, as he soberly went on his way 
Through the mud and sleet in the morning gra}-, 
Ver}^ few, very few would have dared to saj^ 
"There was once a time when this old horse gray 
''Was a brisk young nag (in the days that are past) 
And had even been dubbed, in those earl 3^ days 'fast. 
But there had been a time when men shook their 
heads 

And had even declared that the 3^oung gray colt, 
With his swinging trot at a lightning like pace, 

(Which differed so much from the regular jolt) 
Would never do aught excepting to race. 
"For an honest day's work," said they, one and all, 
"He'll be likely to balk and be sure to stall." 
But a patient head and a loving hand 

Were guiding the gray colt's bridle rein ; 

And, although with many a fret and pain, 
He learned to know when to stop and to stand. 
And little by little he learned the fact 
That, to always be able the right to act. 
For horses, as well as for men, it is true 
A moderate course is the best to pursue. 
So, jogging along through the dust or the rain, 



W EVENING. 

Over the hill and over the plain, 

When it is wet and when it is dry 

The old gray horse goes patientl}^ by, 

Carefully plodding where it is rough. 

Cheerfully trotting where smooth enough, 

Doing his best and doing his all, 

Never known to balk, never known to stall. 

People may talk with a jeer or a frown 

Of his long-haired coat with its mud-stains brown 

Maj'^ laugh at the quaintly bundled up knot 

That nods behind to his regular trot ; 

But the old gray horse with an unmoved face 

Goes quietly by at the same old pace. 



EVENING. 

DAISIES white are softly blooming, 
Roses sweet are now perfuming 
All the air with fragrance rare ; 
Dew drops pure are clearly shining 
Where the vines their leaves are twining 
Evening fair has not a care. 

Evening winds are gently blowing ; 
Patient cows are softly lowing, 

At the gate they stand and wait 
For the milkmaid's tardy coming, 
Tokened bj^ her distant humming. 

That she's late is due to Fate. 



EVENING. in 

Fate has sent a lover suing 
For her hand in earnest wooing. 

Promises of faithfulness 
I^ove and tenderness he pledges, 
While the thrush from out the hedges 

Still sings on of love that's gone. 

She forgets now that the morrow 
Has no certainty but sorrow. 

Present joy has no alloy. 
Blythely sings she of her lover 
While the birds about her hover, 

Charmed by her tuneful cry. 

Maiden, lovers are deceiving. 

Birds and flowers will soon be leaving. 

Winter drear will soon be here. 
Tend thy kine, so patient waiting 
While thy lover is berating 

Time that lags and slowly drags. 

All impatient of thy staying, 
Of thy long and late delaying. 

Up and down with many a frown 
He, with hasty stepping, paces. 
Thinking on thy blushing graces. 

Haste to him, the light grows dim. 

Twilight all too soon advances. 
Robbing him of thy coy glances. 

Mistress calls that darkness falls. 



^i3 BABY. 

Maiden, enter quick th}^ dwelling-, 
Never heeding- what he's telling 
Of a love that time will prove. 

Love tonight's a vesper chiming 
In a tender heartfelt timing ; 

At each beat it grows more sweet. 
But the morrow brings complaining 
Of the little love remaining. 

Maiden, all have felt it's thrall. 



BABY. 

A TINY, grass-grown grave 
Where fern-fronds gentlj^ wave 
To the music cf the rill 
Echoed by a distant hill. 
The stranger only sees 
Statel}^ bending, wind-blown trees 
And beneath a tinj^ mound 
Which to him is naught but ground. 
That is all : for human eyes 
May not see the tears which rise 
As the inother calls to mind 
Baby fingers that still bind, 
Bab3^ waj^s that still shall charm 
While her mother heart is warm. 
BabjM Word of matchless grace! 
Calling up the rosebud face 
Framed in waves of beaten gold, 



A POTATOLESS DINNER. ^is 

Dimples, more than can be told, 

Grave eyes, in whose azure deeps 

A world of thoug-ht in silence sleeps. 



A POTATOLKSS DINNER. 

THE Turk lay steaming on the platter. 
The gravy flanked him on the right. 
Alas ! Whatever was the matter, 

Potatoes— i/iey "were out of sight." 

And sure, as I'm a living sinner. 

Controlled by some unlucky Fate, 

To crown this memorable dinner 

R. M. tipped o'er the gravy plate. 

There's one thing sure beyond all question- 
And only one— I'm thankful for. 

'Tis that not one from indigestion 

Since left this earthl}^ seat of War. 

When next I have a Turk for dinner 

With pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce 

May she grow thin and thin and thinner 
Who makes my menu suffer loss. 

For if so much as one potato 

Escape the boiling of the pot, 

No matter how I reall}^ hate to, 

I'll ''give it to her" just "red-hot." 



3k CHILDBEN'S SONGS. 



CHILDREN'S SONGS. 



SONG OF THE SHADOW FAIRIES. 

CHILDREN of the leaves and sunshine, 
Blythely dancing- all the daj^, 
To the bird-notes thrilling- sweetl}^ 

In a measure light and ga}^ ; 
Ever dancing, dancing, dancing, 

Ever while we maj^ ; 
Till the dew begins to fall 
And the twilight shadows all ; 
Then awaj^ we fly together 

Till tomorrow brings the sun, 
And the birds again are singing, singing, 
For, till then our play is done. 

Tripping o'er the dainty mosses 

Kneeling at a lil3^'s feet ; 
Chasing after whirling leaflets 

Nodding to the bowing wheat ; 
Ever dancing, dancing, dancing-, 

Still with footsteps fleet ; 
Kissing many flowers rare, 
Floating on the water fair; 
But at dusk we fly together 

To our hidden elfin home 
And await the morrow's coming, coming-; 

When the sun shines we maj^ roam. 



CHILDREN'S SONGS. S5 



SONG II. 

BIRDIK in the tree-top singing, 
Silv'ry tones around you flinging, 
Why are you so bright and gay. 
Trilling, chirping, all the day ? 

Birdie, I do love to hear you 
Though I don't dare to come near you. 
You're so timid and so shy 
When I come away you fly. 

Birdie, you do sing so sweetly 
You have won my heart completely. 
Come again and sing to me 
From the blooming apple tree. 



SOMG III. 

MERRILY we sing for gladness 
Without one dark cloud of sadness. 
Music drives away all care 
So we sing as free as air. 

Merrily we sing for pleasure, 
In a joyous trilling measure ; 
Sweet and clear the notes resound. 
Here is purest pleasure found. 



m CHILDBEN'S SONGS. 



IV.— OUR HAPPY DAY. 

OUR happ3^ day is almost gone, 
Our song's are sung, our pla}^ is done. 
The blossoms, gathered fresh with dew, 
Are drooping in their places too. 

But in our hearts a fairer flower 
Grows sweeter with each passing hour, 
Our love is steadfast, pure and bright, 
Although we now must say good night. 

Cho. — Ma3^ He who loves the little ones 

Watch o'er us as we now shall part 
And grant that in a fairer home 

Grandpa shall clasp us to his heart. 



v.— THE MOCKING BIRD. 

A DARLING little mocking bird 
Was singing me a song 
Of all the sweetest tunes he'd heard 
Thro' all the day so long. 

He sang of what the robin told 
The blue-bird and the lark. 

How winter was so very cold 
And all the days were dark. 



CHILDREN'S SONGS. S7 

But springtime with its happy hours 

Was coming- very soon 
To bring back all the lovel}^ flowers 

And happy days of June. 

And so my birdie sang to me, 

From out his loving breast, 
The song which all the birds so free 
Had taught him while at rest. 

Oh, darling little mocking bird ! 

He sang his song so well ! 
Of all the sounds I ever heard 

'Twas like a silver bell. 




THE BEVNION. 



THE REUNION. 

PRELUDE. 

Dear Friends: 

It is nearly two months ago that the mail one day brouj^ht the 
request that I should commemorate in verse the work of the W. C. T. 
U. at the Soldiers' Reunion last fall. 

The request was soon followed by a budget in which, snugly 
hidden away, I found one of the badges worn by the W. C. T. U. 
committee during those memorable August days. It was in the first 
whirl of excited feeling— pride in things accomplished, hope for 
things to come— that the opening stanzas of the poem were, not 
inappropriately, I trust, dedicated to 

OUR BADGE. 

TODAY I feel my pulses leap 
In cadence with mj^ heart's wild beat. 
As one wakened from his sleep 

By the remUlee shrill yet sweet. 
And eag-er for the coming fray, 
I greet the present glorious day. 
A simple knot of ribbons tied, 
Red, white and blue placed side by side- 
Colors for which our heroes died, 

Emblem of freedom and of right, 
The symbol of our country's pride, 

Her Union and resistless might 
That bore her ever conquering— 



THE REUNION /A9 

Has stirred my heart-string-s till the}' rimf 
In measure with the thoughts that flow 
Backward toward the * long ago." 
All hail our badge ! the pledge of right ; 

All hail our badge! the sign of power. 
All hail our badge! From Freedom's height 

We hail that grander, nobler hour 
When, Freedom's last dark foeman slain, 

Our countr3^'s banner shall display 
It's radiant folds without a stain, 

Unfurled where all the winds that pla}- 
About its white and crimson bars 

Are pure, untainted b}'^ the breath 
Of him who slays far more than Mars, 

And— far more cruel — by a death 
B3- which both soul and body fall. 

All hail our badge ! Once more we cr}-, 
And down, yes down, with Alcohol ! 

Ring out the shout to 3^onder skj'^ ! 
Cheer once again red, white and blue, 
And to our trust let each be true ! 
United let us fall or stand 
For God, for Home and Native Land. 



THE REUNION. 

From all the neighboring countrj^-side, 
From town and hamlet far and wide, 

The}^ gathered here that August da}^ : 
And some were gray and bent with years, 



JtU THE EEUXION. 

And some were strong and bright and gay. 
Though on some faces there were tears 

All mingled with the smiles the^^ gave 

To their old comrades grand and brave— 
For some were only shattered wrecks 

Of the grand manhood the}^ had known 
Since he who serves his country recks 

But little of his flesh and bone. 

In uniforms of faded blue 

The}' gathered to their rendezvous 

At old Camp Allen, as they did 

Some twenty years or more ago 
When Lincoln called them forth to rid 

Their land of slavery's dark woe. 
Around the camp fire's ruddy blaze 
They told the tales of other days ; 
Recounted oft the dangers shared, 

Privations bitter, hardships known ; 
Told o'er and o'er the way they fared 

On rust}^ bacon and corn pone. 

We welcomed them, our soldiers true 
With hearts and hands and voices, too ; 
We welcomed them who gave their all 

For God and Home and Native Land. 
Alas! That many a rebel ball 

Had thinned the ranks of that brave band I 
In mem'ry of our gallant dead 
Who nobly fought for right and bled, 
Yielding their lives in Freedom's need 



THE BEUNION. 41 

For God, for Home and Native Land — 
All praise, all honor be their meed, 
Who dared to die, our hero band. 



THE PROCESSION. 

Adown the street the}' marched along- 
And, as the}' marched, the gathered throng 
Gave cheer on cheer and cheered again. 

Before them marched in proud array 
Band after band of strong 3'oung men, 

Gathered in honor of the day, — 
Cadets and guards— as if again 
Proud War had marshalled all his host, 
His pomp to show, his strength to boast; 
While prancing steed and banners bright, 

The gleam of brightly polished steel 
Klectric in the sun's white light, 

A brilliant pageant all reveal. 

And then the veterans, battle-scarred. 
With faces seamed, hands brown and hard, 
With tattered flags, in well-worn blue, 

With battered knapsacks, rusty guns, 
Some propped on wooden pins, a few 

With empt}^ hanging sleeves, and all 
Bearing the marks of toil and care 
Marched in the place of honor there. 
And louder rang the deafening cheer 



4^-' THE EEUNION 

For them than for the splendid show 
That went before them,— loud and clear 

For those who vanquished Freedom's foe. 

Down many a cheek tears coursed like rain 
As slowl}^ passed the veteran train ; 
And throbbing- hearts felt o'er again 
The grief, the woe, the weary pain 
That long ago had crushed them when 
Their heroes died. Though not in vain 
They died, grief mastered pride 
And ever wept "They died ! Thej^ died !" 
And now their comrade's inarching by 

Stirred from the lethargy of years 
The slumbering grief, to wake and cry 

And spend itself in bitter tears. 

Then peace with all her busy crew 
Triumphant brought her trophies too ; 

Here tapestries of rich design, 
There spade and plow and rake and hoe. 

Here boots and shoes, there fabrics fine, 
And more besides, — a goodly show. 
And what came next?" Our deadliest foe ! 
Enthroned and canopied to go. 
Borne like some t3^rant king of old. 

To mock our triumph, taunt our pride, 
To waste our strength and steal our gold. 

To scatter ruin far and wide. 

Surrounded b}^ his minions base 
There he defied us to our face ; 



THE REUNION. j^3 

Fluttered his banners in the air, 

Libations poured of foaming- beer 
In Satan's honor ; Boldly there, 

Upon his face a vicious leer, 
He rode — embodiment of evil, all 
That devils are— King Alcohol. 
Full man}'- a victim v^rore his chain ; 

E'en some who conquered slavery 
Were marked by his foul black'ning stain, 

The stamp of shame and misery. 

And so the long line passed along 
Amid the vast and surging throng 
That lined the roadside, wild to view 

Their soldier heroes as they marched 
Down to the camp-ground, tramping through 

The streets, all dusty, dry and parched, 
Of Kekionga's olden site ; 
Where myriad tents of snow}^ white 

Gleamed near St. Mar3^'s flowing- tide 
They went, in all the pomp of might, 

Down to the pleasant riverside. 



OUR VICTORY. 

But as the martial host went down, 
Out from the crowded dusty town. 
One haughty rider turned him back ; 

Alone, like some grim vanquished king, 
Wended alonp- the beaten track, 



THE BEUKION. 

Back to his strong-hold hastening. 
With sneer and jeer and bravado 
As if defeat had galled him so 
He fain would turn it all to jest, 

Back to his own dark gloomy hall, 
Back with a sadly drooping crest, 

Back with his slaves came Alcohol. 

For round that camp there stood a guard, 
Vigilant, keeping- watch and ward 
Over the souls of those who slept 

Sheltered beneath the tents that night : 
A band of women nobly kept 

Guard, and their watchword was 
''The Right." 
Ah, yes ! The right of strength and health, 
The right of happiness and wealth. 
Of "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men," 

Of joy in Heaven around the throne ; 
The angels echoed it again 

"Right shall henceforth on Karth be 
known." 

Within their charmed circle there 

Not even Alcohol might dare ; 

For Temperance Fair stood joined with Right 

For God, for Home and Native Land. 
And sure it was a pleasant sight 

To look upon— that gentle band. 
Wearing a higher Freedom's badge. 
Linked b3^ the holj^ Temperance pledge, 
Bearing sweet flowers and kindly words, 



THE REUNION. 45 

Forth through the mighty host they went, 
Free as the swift-winged wildwood birds. 
On their great mission all intent. 

No glittering shield was theirs to wear 
And never weapon did they bear. 
The simple knot of ribbon gave 

Protection throughout all the field, 
And those whom they had come to save 

Rev'rence by word and act revealed. 
And oh, the triumph of that hour ! 
Freed for the time from Evil's power, 
"Tenting upon the old camp ground" 

Our gallant soldiers revelled there, 
And oft there rose the martial sound 

Of old war songs that filled the air. 

But throughout all the merry crowd. 
Though often laughter rose aloud, 
Never was heard the maudlin song ; 

All with one spirit seemed imbued 
And Temperance ruled the might}^ throng. 
Long will we hail the victory grand 
For God, for Home, for Native Land 
Gained on the old camp ground that day. 

Long will our fainting pulses thrill 
At the rememb'rance of the way 

The women worked their noble will. 

Long will the thanks they gave us cheer 
Us in our long hard struggle here ! 
Long will we hope for greater things ! 



46 THE EEUNION. 

As we did conquer so we n\3.y ; 
With this bright niem'r}^ fresh hope springs 

That soon shall dawn that Grander Day 
When, free from Alcoholic thrall, 
No more before such power to fall, 
Acknowledging- the sovereign sway 

Of Temperance fair, our men shall stand 
Tn moral freedom ; — this we pra}^, 

Oh God, for Home and Native Land. 



CONCLUSION. 

Let us rally round the badge, friends, rallj^ 
once again ! 
Shouting the Temperance cry of Freedom ! 
We will swell the loftj^ strain, till the skies 
shall ring again, 
Shouting the Temperance cry of Freedom. 

Chorus— 

For Freedom forever, be brave, friends, be brave, 
Death to Alcohol ! Who'd be his slave? 
Yes we'll rally round our badge, friends, rall3^ 
once again. 
Shouting the Temperance cry of Freedom. 

Oh, we'll rally here with you, round the dear 
*'red, white and blue," 
Shouting the Teinperance cry of Freedom ! 



THE REVNION. 

We have bound our ribbon white with our 
countr5^'s colors bright, 
Shouting the Temperance cry of Freedom. 

We will banish shame and woe with our last 
and deadliest foe, 
Shouting the Temperance cry of Freedom ! 
And together we will stand for God, Home and 
Native Land, 
Shouting the Temperance cry of Freedom. 



[Read at the Indiana State Convention. \y. G.TTJ., ISHa, in 
memory of the work done by the Fort Wayne W. C. T. U. the preced- 
ing fall at the Soldiers' Reunion.] 



